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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27321583">overture</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushroomherb/pseuds/mushroomherb'>mushroomherb</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Bad Boy Hannibal, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hannibal Lecter is Not a Cannibal, Hannibal Rules, Hannibal Smokes Cigarettes, He's Like Nigel but Still Very Polite, M/M, References to Depression, Slice of Life, Will is Falling in Love, Will is Not a Killer yet, Young Hannibal Lecter, Young Love, Young Will Graham, mentions of bullying, yet - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:54:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,669</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27321583</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushroomherb/pseuds/mushroomherb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Crawford's unnecessary and unpleasant talk after school led to a very pleasant and very necessary encounter with the new, European guy in school.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>overture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mr. Crawford really shouldn’t have called him after school. Mr. Crawford really shouldn’t have had a conversation <em>that</em> long with him. Mr. Crawford really shouldn’t have made him stay after his last class of the day, ten minutes turned into thirty, just to <em>talk</em> Will into considering getting into law enforcement, after high school, and then maybe he could <em>steer</em> Will more to the FBI. <em>Hunting dog</em>. For Mr. Crawford, in the future. He didn’t even know where Mr. Crawford came from, said, <em>we’ve been watching you and your potential</em>, if that wasn’t creepy enough, <em>let us borrow your imagination, Will</em>.</p><p>All he ever imagined was his dogs turning into direwolves in the night (okay maybe more, much more, <em>more bloody</em>, <em>more monstrous</em>, <em>not even close to the word normal</em>, but he wouldn’t start sharing diary with one FBI agent now, would he? Not one so <em>strict</em> and uptight such as Mr. Crawford).</p><p>Really, he should have just ignored the man and gone home. Back to Winston and Buster and Ellie and Jack and Zoe and eat something with them, probably a stale sandwich, or the box of fruit loops he stashed under his bed.</p><p>Instead, he was tired, sweaty school uniform clung to his skin, almost brain-dead from Mr. Crawford’s coaxing and, add to that, being trapped in the rain.</p><p>Where did the rain come from, anyway? It was bright to the bone in the day, and then it was just water pouring down. No sign of stopping.</p><p>But, honestly, he was actually content, for a moment, just listening to the drips and the drops, smelling wet ground, eyes closed, hands safe from the cold in his pockets.</p><p>Before <em>that</em> footsteps came nearing, stopped right beside his own figure, an exhale.</p><p>Will looked up after a minute of contemplation, catching the sight of the new guy whose face he had grown to be familiar with. Slightly taller than Will himself, much broader in the upper region, more muscle too. Hair a dark blond in colour, streaked with some whites and some silvers, rugged, flopped down just right above his light eyebrows. Cheekbones higher than everyone he ever came upon, sharp jaws like those of Greek Gods statues. He heard his accent even before the guy himself spoke.</p><p>“Step back a little, Graham, gonna get yourself wet from the rain,” Hannibal Lecter said. Slender fingers moved to pull Will back a little, let him go and reached to his own breast pocket, a box of cigarettes retrieved, took one from the almost-empty pack, lit it up and put the thing in between his lips. Will looked away as Hannibal dragged his cigarette, only to puff out the smoke a moment later.</p><p>He didn’t need to steady his gaze fully towards Hannibal to know that his backpack was slung over one of his shoulders, didn’t need to look at him to notice the shirt he wore was out of place, two top buttons unbuttoned, tie askew, sleeves <em>pushed</em> up to his elbows. Also, he needed only used his peripheral to spot brand-new scars on his fine-boned face, a purplish bruise was also evident on the space between his left ear and cheek, split lower lip, that was new too.</p><p>Hannibal Lecter had a degree in messing up his and other people’s face, quite well that he did it, probably from young years of <em>experiments</em> and <em>studies</em>. A scratch once a day, at the minimal. The subject of his degree was usually one of the jocks, bullies, those with purposeless prodding and poking of other innocent students, showing up at a scene of some nerds getting stomped on, out of nowhere, silent steps, always went away from said scenes after making sure the victims were safe before he walked with a puff of smoke from his cig trailing behind.</p><p>He himself was rather a loner. Will had seen him with companies only thrice, Anthony Dimmond and Francis Dolarhyde, the former led the tally, since he and Hannibal actually talked in French.</p><p>Hannibal had been in Will’s school for three months only, but already that one time became a champion of a broken arm as a trophy for mum and dad, in the first week he was there, heard it was a friendly gift from Tobias Budge, a notorious snob. The latter ran home with a perennial scowl so ugly he never went near Hannibal anymore.</p><p>“Take care of yourself first before you do that to others,” Will balked, sounded a little snarky but he couldn’t help himself. Not even ashamed at the undertone of the fact that he <em>had</em> indeed paid attention <em>more</em> to Hannibal Lecter, the past few weeks.</p><p>Man, he could <em>hear</em> the smile forming on the guy’s face.</p><p>Another puff of smoke, went opposite way of Will’s, a chuckle, low as the distant rumbling of thunder, Hannibal spoke, “Countless people are the sufferers of unspeakable torments every day, Will. What’s a couple of scratches to that?”</p><p>Taken aback by his own name, rolling out of accented lips in the most <em>servile</em> way possible –Will would usually snap back at that, artificial it sounded like, but not Hannibal’s. From what source the guy knew his name, he also had no idea. At last, he settled with, not even realising their conversation had gone serious, “Unspeakable torments. Huh. Such as?”</p><p>Hannibal shrugged, his cigarette slowly being burned to the end, “Many things. Sufferers of depression, for one. Or anything that creates a muddy stream in the brain. Unspeakable, indescribable pain they had to go through every day. Some <em>healthy</em> others wouldn’t even <em>understand </em>the actual dimensions of their torments, even after thorough comprehensions. A feeling so alien to their everyday experience.”</p><p>“Those healthy ones. They– they do that, but it’s not because they are lacking of sympathy, though.”</p><p>“No, it’s not. Just basic inability of those with <em>fit</em> brains to imagine that form of torments.”</p><p>“What are you, a shrink in your previous life?” Will chuckled lightly, could only do so, for the flow of Hannibal’s rambling sounded like those vinyl records his father had at home, <em>rich</em>, <em>scholarly</em>, very unlike his outer appearance.</p><p>Will had known, of course, Hannibal was smart, both street and book. Above B+ was usually on the papers of his tests when Miss Du Maurier gave back his test results. The guy didn’t even try to study as hard as Will, rarely did he catch Hannibal with a textbook, rather those of poetries and literatures in languages he wasn’t sure the origins of.</p><p>He just did not realise, from only talking with the Lithuanian for few minutes, that <em>that</em> level of depth flew out of Hannibal Lecter’s mouth like he had spent his entire life just to learn about the particular topic, an understanding of the human mind, and the result was him sounding as if he had experienced such torments himself all his life, <em>speaking from experience</em>, people said.</p><p>“Perhaps,” smoking done, put out on the nearest cigarette butt bin, still shiny under the dark sky.</p><p>"Brains are fascinating, Will. Human brains, more so, don’t you think?”</p><p>A snort, what sort of coincidence that two people he met in the day said the same thing? Mr. Crawford said something along the lines too earlier.</p><p>“You sound like Mr. Crawford,” Will answered, opting to not fully answer the question.</p><p>“Who’s Mr. Crawford?”</p><p>“I don’t know, some guy from the FBI.”</p><p>Hannibal snapped his head towards him at that, an eyebrow raised the same time with the upturn of his lips, <em>such a naughty boy, aren’t you?</em></p><p>Will rolled his eyes, “I did nothing, said he was just offering me a chance for after graduation. He said it's an interesting thing if we try to understand our brains better.”</p><p>Hannibal didn’t make a sound except for one single hum, both a comprehension and something akin to a snicker.</p><p>“See? Fascinating. Just like the rain, fascinating as well, come and go as they like. Aren’t you gonna go home, Will?”</p><p>Will looked up the sky, water was still pouring down with no mercy, he would definitely get soaked right to the bone, probably caught a cold the next morning. Gaze shifted to Hannibal’s deep void of a pair of eyes, shining mischievously as if challenging the shorter man.</p><p>“Why don’t we wait for it to clear up a bit?” he asked.</p><p>Hannibal’s smile widened, long legs stepped out of their temporary shelter, letting the rain hit his hair and his body and his backpack and his shoes in earnest.</p><p>“Now, where is the fun in that, Will Graham?”</p><p>Smile in return, hesitant steps towards the thunderous pour, Hannibal reached for his hand.</p><p>---</p><p>He shouldn’t have listened to Hannibal-<em>Fucking</em>-Lecter. Shouldn’t have succumbed to dark eyes and the enticing dangers beneath. Shouldn’t even have accepted his hand (warm and big and strong and <em>safe</em>), a sure source of warmth in the rain.</p><p>He did, anyway. And so, the next day, found himself with a stupid cold and an even stupider set of heavy eyes, barely able to flutter them open.</p><p>Dad had said it was okay were Will chose to stay home that day, but <em>nope</em>. The prospect of staying home with the pups was one he wouldn’t even think of denying, if it was any other situation. Maybe watch the television with Winston laying on his stomach, Buster as a muffler, tail slapping his face gently, Ellie somewhere near his legs, Jack on the floor licking his hanging hand, Zoe somewhere too. But then he wouldn’t be able to confront the reason of his downfall, wouldn’t be able to send snippy remarks at Lecter’s absurdly <em>nice-looking</em> cheekbones, wouldn’t be able to <em>meet</em> him in person.</p><p>So he went to school.</p><p>Even with the rising bile in his stomach threatening to overflow.</p><p>---</p><p>He found Hannibal at the back of the school later in the day.</p><p>Punched the life out of his stupidly smug face, so hard that his own knuckles sting.</p><p>“Oh, come on, Will, I'm sorry.”</p><p>---</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading!</p><p>by the way, the talk that Hannibal had with Will was very much inspired by a comment on a youtube video, a clip from the 2003 movie Sylvia, played by Gwyneth Paltrow and about the poet Sylvia Plath’s life.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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